We can bring our troubles, griefs, sorrows, and sins to Jesus, who meets us smack dab in the middle of our messy mob.
Confession isn’t a detour in the liturgy. It’s the doorway.
American religion did not become optional because the gospel failed. It became optional because religion slowly redefined itself around usefulness.

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Jesus comes to pop our bubbles of pride, implode our towers of vanity, expose our arrogant adulting ways, and brings us down, down, down. Down to his level, which is the level of crucifixion.
Where once we confessed reliance only in ourselves and our own power, now we confess reliance on Christ alone. So, for our relationship before God, our confession of faith matters.
You may have seen the uproar from a recent blog post suggesting that virgins who forego college, learn to cook big meals and abstain from tattoos make more desirable wives.
We expect that if it is God’s word, it must have fallen out of the sky on golden plates.
The question at hand was quite short, “Who is Jesus Christ?
The Law gets a bad rap. There is certainly a negative component to the Law. The work of the Law is very different than the work of the Gospel.
The first course is always humble pie because, at the table, there are just two seats: from humiliation to exaltation.
Jesus is in the business of proclaiming such a beautiful redundancy.
Hus held that Christ alone grants salvation and that popes do not.
I have found that if I want to get people talking (especially guys), all I have to do is ask them about their father.
God is the God of failures, for He became one for you. There is no failure of ours that is bigger than Jesus’ cross, no sin of ours that can overshadow the cross.
My Grandmother recently lost a long battle with cancer. Her name was Joy, and a name has never been more fitting.